


Imperial Majesty

by Shaed



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, M/M, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pain, Painplay, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaed/pseuds/Shaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On some nights, the Knight of Zero is summoned to the imperial bedchamber to speak with the Emperor of Brittania in absolute secrecy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Imperial

**Author's Note:**

> Set after World of C and Lelouch taking over Brittania as the 99th emperor and names Suzaku his Knight of Zero. Pay attention to tags, this isn’t a nice fic.

On some nights, the Knight of Zero is summoned to the imperial bedchamber to speak with the Emperor of Brittania in absolute secrecy. Those are the nights Suzaku will not emerge from the Emperor’s chamber until past midnight, looking no different unless one knew how to watch for the signs of exhaustion in the dull green eyes, the slight limpness in the coppery-brown hair, and the hint of stiffness in the straight back encased in the thick material of the uniform. Most people, even those closest to Lelouch, believe those are the times when the Emperor and his closest confidant and protector quietly work out the next brilliant and ruthless plans to crush their opposition. Of all those who ever knew Lelouch, only Schneizel would know this isn’t true.

The irony doesn’t escape Suzaku, but the humor is too bitter to bring even a ghost of a smile to his tightly pressed lips.

Ever since their childhood, Lelouch has been the genius, the strategist. Lelouch always comes up with his plans all on his own, never seeking or requiring anyone’s help. And Lelouch never asks his opinion about the plans, simply ordering him to execute them. In a way, Suzaku is grateful: it takes away the burden of conscience from him, since Lelouch is his Emperor and he has sworn to serve Lelouch. But that part of the evening’s business is usually concluded in less than an hour after dinner: every word of Lelouch’s order is carefully chosen and delivered, unhurried and sure, and Lelouch never has to explain himself twice, not with Suzaku.

The rest of the evening is usually spent half-buried and lost atop Lelouch’s ridiculously large and overly soft bed, dissolved in moans and whimpers and harsh cries. And tonight, Lelouch is especially vocal, making Suzaku hope to hell the room is soundproof. Lelouch is also facedown on the bed, whimpering with every thrust into his body, back gleaming and rippling with exertion that he would never deign to make outside the bed.

Which brings Suzaku to his current position behind Lelouch, fucking him with almost mechanical precision that shocks even himself. Suzaku idly wonders what everyone would think if they knew the 99th Emperor of Brittania, soon to be the absolute dictator of the world, likes it hard and fast from the behind. Only if they could see Lelouch now, moaning louder than the best whores of the city, ass rising to meet him halfway, all but begging Suzaku _harder, more, faster_. Suzaku obliges even without consciously registering the words, movement changing to match the familiar commands out of sheer habit, pounding into Lelouch in a punishing rhythm. Lelouch’s whines gain a new edge of desperation, ass insistently pressing backward in a wordless plea, and Suzaku almost sighs before he catches himself.

Reaching for Lelouch’s hand feels natural, like the thousand other times he’d reached for Lelouch’s hand, paler, more slender, and invariably cooler than his own, so familiar. But what he does next is anything but. Harshly, Suzaku twists the arm behind Lelouch’s back, pressing until he hears a faint cry of pain, followed by a high-pitched whimper-moan that tells him Lelouch is close now. Suzaku does not relent, pulling on the arm, and tries not to think about what he is doing, or how Lelouch probably has tears running down his face by now. He is pushing with a force just shy of breaking the slender arm, knowing Lelouch cannot come without the pain, the extra edge of threat that makes Lelouch gasp and tense, like he is torn between fighting and enjoying it.

The lotion is dried out by now, and Suzaku grimaces at the rough burn of skin scraping against skin. He will probably be sore piloting the _Lancelot_ tomorrow, but he has a mission he needs to finish here. Ignoring the burn that threatens to make his arousal fade, Suzaku increases the pace, slams into Lelouch with enough force to make him buckle, and Lelouch screams, now held aloft only by the arm twisted behind his back. Suzaku reaches around to twist Lelouch’s nipples, then drags his nails down the soft, vulnerable skin of the abdomen, feeling warm wetness spring under his fingertips over the last inch just below Lelouch’s navel, punctuated by a savage thrust that rips through the fragile resistance of Lelouch’s body. Lelouch comes hard, spraying the sheet and Suzaku’s hand with his come, his screams abruptly cut off, frozen in his throat. The irregular tightening of Lelouch’s ravaged and torn flesh tells him his duty to the Emperor is done for the night, and Suzaku comes, as much from the relief as the contractions that milk his cock.

Mindful of the thin body collapsed and shuddering under his, Suzaku carefully sinks to the bed next to Lelouch, who trembles and whimpers as he recovers from his release. The air in the chamber is cool, and Suzaku quietly drags up the mussed sheets over their bodies, pulling up the comforter next to cover Lelouch when the shivering does not ease. Suzaku knows without looking that the pillow is damp with sweat and tears, so is careful not to look, to even risk a glance at Lelouch’s face until the Emperor composes himself once more.

Finding his thoughts adrift, Suzaku clenches his hands, feeling the nails dig into his palms, and the flash of pain brings him back to the present, lying next to Lelouch. Lelouch has his back to Suzaku, and it is all Suzaku can do, to look and not reach out to trace the clean line of the back, to fondle the small ass and cup the curve of the hipbones. Then, Lelouch shifts under the sheets with a sigh, and the smell of the blood and the undertone of gasp lurking in the sigh snaps him back to the reality. Suzaku remembers drawing blood when he scratched Lelouch’s stomach, and hopes that is the only place, but knows better. The way Lelouch is shifting so gingerly, so carefully, is enough of the hint that yes, there is blood drying between his legs, slowly dripping to the sheets, and no, he won’t say anything. Lelouch will never say anything, and continue to command Suzaku’s body for the same purpose over and over again. Like Lelouch really needs to command him for that, or for anything at all. Like Suzaku isn’t already his, body and soul. Like Lelouch ever truly needed to use Geass on him. Even before Lelouch used his Geass on him, always, Lelouch’s every wish _was_ his command. He’d belonged to Lelouch from the beginning.

And maybe, just maybe, Lelouch knows that, too. Maybe that is why Lelouch never asks, never commands, only ever directs with his body without words. In the end, Suzaku is the one who must choose to follow the unspoken directions for this nightly ritual of pain and oblivion.

Lelouch remains still and silent, eyes closed and breathing even, when Suzaku takes his leave. Of course, Suzaku knows better than to believe Lelouch is really asleep, at least not yet. But if Lelouch didn’t feign sleep, Suzaku would never be able to leave a gentle kiss on his forehead, because an awake Lelouch would never allow it. Instead, every time, Lelouch lies motionless and lets Suzaku kiss him with gentleness and never breaks the illusion. Perhaps, Suzaku wonders, this is Lelouch’s way of apologizing to him and thanking him at the same time.

Tonight, the Emperor’s sleep will be untroubled and dreamless.

_\-- November 2008_


	2. Majesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lelouch’s side in the tale of epic fucked-up-ness (and that’s not even a dirty pun).

Once, a lifetime ago, Lelouch would have remembered at least a dozen reason why this was a bad idea. But this isn’t that life, and those reasons have no meaning, not anymore. So Lelouch rolls his hips, slams into Suzaku roughly.

Suzaku gasps and arches, pressing back with urgency, and Lelouch obliges him with another hard thrust, driving him forward, meeting him halfway. Suzaku’s throat ripples under his palm, and Lelouch tightens his fingers, just a little, until the flesh in his hand vibrates with a strangled moan. The sound is deliciously erotic, and Lelouch groans, biting Suzaku’s shoulder hard and thrusting deep into the warm body. And Suzaku arches even more, tipping his head back to bare more of his throat to Lelouch’s wandering hands and lips, and who is Lelouch to deny him?

Suzaku moans, voice rising steadily with every thrust into his body, and Lelouch clutches at him fiercely, knowing there will be bruises all over Suzaku’s hips tomorrow. Consciously, Lelouch removes his hand from Suzaku’s throat before his grip tightens any more and possibly do damage – though he doubts he would get very far choking his Knight of Zero; the geass command laid on Suzaku a year and half ago, the “Survive” command, is still strong in him. If push came to shove, Suzaku will do whatever he must to save himself, whether he wants to or not. But no matter how rough they play, Suzaku never reacts with geass-enforced defensiveness, and Lelouch knows for a fact he’s made Suzaku bleed a few times before. So either Suzaku’s perception of danger is whacked up to the level of suicidal, or—

“Lelouch!”

—Or Suzaku may, in fact, be able to control triggering of the geass command on a conscious level to a much greater degree than he originally assumed. Lelouch isn’t sure which angers him – or pleases him – more, but that is pure Suzaku in a nutshell. And then Suzaku’s ass clamps down, tightening around his cock impossibly until Lelouch cries out hoarsely, forgetting everything but the hot, vice-like grip that holds him in place. It is...annoying, in a way, that Suzaku is still in control of the situation even when he’s taking it up the ass, but Lelouch is appreciating the said ass too much to work up proper level of ire. So for now, he settles for raking his fingers down Suzaku’s vulnerable back, leaving angry marks in their wake. Suzaku screams and bucks, and fuck – gets even tighter. Lelouch is no longer sure which one of them is screaming now, Suzaku’s normally light and soft voice and his own, deeper voice entwining with a frenzy that mirrors the way their bodies join.

Blindly his fingers grope for Suzaku’s throat again, fingers sliding easily between the open lips as Suzaku pants harshly. It is not a conscious decision to start thrusting into Suzaku’s mouth in time with the movement of his hips, but Suzaku’s tongue flicks over them, drawing them deeper, and it is all Lelouch can do to keep from weeping, from exhaustion or overload of sensations, or both. He closes his eyes, wishing his fingers can go farther, enter Suzaku’s throat, wanting his cock to go deeper into that burning body, writhing under him with a passion Suzaku rarely shows outside the battlefield. He wants to penetrate Suzaku deeper, harder, wants to go so deep inside he’d never be able to come back out. He wants to rip Suzaku apart, enter his body and mind, and nestle in the warmth of Suzaku’s beating heart like a poison. He’s fucked Suzaku with urgency bordering on psychosis each time, the times when he doesn’t have Suzaku fucking _him_ into the mattress, has seen the absolute effect of his geass command on Suzaku on the battlefield, and has known Suzaku in every way he could know someone. And it’s not enough. It will _never_ be enough.

He wants to _consume_ Suzaku. Wants to swallow him whole, wants to feel the heat and pain that is Suzaku burn through his entire body. Ever since they returned from the World of C and planned all of their Zero Requiem to the last details, his craving for Suzaku had become something deeper and far more diseased than simple obsession. Suzaku gives and gives, never questioning, never wavering, letting Lelouch take and take, but Lelouch might have been drinking the ocean for all the good it did.

Kururugi Suzaku. Knight of Zero. His personal knight and protector. The commander of his armies, his right hand, and his sword. His love and hate and hope and despair, his personal hell. His oldest friend and bitterest enemy. His beloved traitor, Nunally’s murderer, and one who has the most claim on Lelouch’s blood in the whole world.

After the rivers of blood and regret and pain and sacrifices, Lelouch knows every one of the thousand reasons why they will never, _ever_ work. They will never be able to work past everything they have been through. They’ve each hurt the other too deeply and for too long, and some wounds will never close, not if they both lived to be hundreds of years old. But Suzaku has never been more his than right now, when Suzaku doesn’t have to be anything but Lelouch’s. Suzaku doesn’t belong to anyone or anything right now: not to Euphemia, not to his guilt-ridden, mistaken sense of (over)compensation for his father’s murder, or to the naïve and misguided idealism, or even to the self-destructive quest for redemption. This Suzaku is just as determined as he is to see the plan to the bitter end, and that makes Suzaku more irrevocably _his_ than ever.

Suzaku is a vocal lover, and screams as he comes, pushing back with an aggressive demand that Lelouch is helpless to deny. Lelouch groans at the heat that spreads on his palm as Suzaku’s cock pulses in his hand, milks it while Suzaku shudders and moans. Just a couple more thrusts later Lelouch comes, his own scream silent and strangled somewhere deep inside his chest, and collapses on top of Suzaku’s body, uncaring that Suzaku is bearing his full body weight. A moment later, Suzaku twists out from under him, and pulls the sheets over their lower bodies. Lelouch watches the ripple of muscles in Suzaku’s back as he moves, fascinated, and finds himself tracing the ridges of Suzaku’s spine lightly. Suzaku flinches, then relaxes, carefully lowering himself on his stomach. Lelouch hears the pained hiss in Suzaku’s breath when his fingertips dip below the tailbone but doesn't stop. His fingers lazily trace the tender, swollen opening and the soiled skin of the firm thighs, and Suzaku suffers this for a few more heartbeats before he pulls away.

Lelouch is seized by the sudden impulse to apologize, but the apology never makes it past his chest. Apologize for what? For hurting him – when hurting each other is all they have been doing since that night, when the appearance of a witch single-handedly set into motion a cruel and terrible fate? With what amounts to Herculean effort on his part, Lelouch rises on one elbow to study Suzaku, who has his face turned away from him. The sheet is pulled only halfway up his back, and it’s easy to push it down, past Suzaku’s hips. The suddenly overwhelming scent of sex and violence nearly makes Lelouch falter, but he resolutely continues, pulling the sheet away to bare Suzaku’s body to him. Suzaku stirs, maybe trying to turn his face to look at Lelouch, and Lelouch sits up with a firm hand on the center of Suzaku’s back, forestalling any move to get up. Suzaku’s shoulders tense, and Lelouch doesn’t have to look at his face to know he is frowning, probably wondering what Lelouch is up to. The Knight of Zero is right to wonder; even to this date, the self-proclaimed Emperor of Brittania has all the stamina of a tired sloth. Usually, their nightly sessions tend to exhaust Lelouch to the point that he is half asleep by the time they both come.

With his free hand, Lelouch reaches out, slipping his fingers between Suzaku’s thighs, which tense for a second, then relax, and traces the sticky trail upward. Suzaku’s deliberate relaxation doesn’t last long. The tension in those slender yet powerful muscles is palpable under Lelouch’s hands, but it is not enough to deter him from pushing two fingers up Suzaku’s ass. Suzaku stirs again, and for a moment, Lelouch wonders if he will refuse, shake off Lelouch’s hands and demand what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Then, the tightness of Suzaku’s back suddenly diffuses, like a marionette with its strings cut, and Suzaku’s entire body lets go. Lelouch has to check, to look at the green eyes slowly blink, fixed somewhere on the overly ornate walls, to make sure Suzaku hasn’t passed out.

It puzzles Lelouch, this acceptance. He understands why Suzaku agreed to his plans. He thinks he can understand why Suzaku accepted the unspoken invitation the first night, three days after the World of C, to come into Lelouch’s room and into his bed, to fuck Lelouch senseless and give both of them one night of rest free from dreams. Sometimes, he thinks he might understand why Suzaku sometimes lets Lelouch roll him on his stomach and fuck him with same roughness that Lelouch demands from Suzaku. If nothing else, Suzaku has always been fair, and pain and passion have colored their every history, so why not this – whatever it is between them – as well?

But this – this isn’t a moment of passion, of either affection or hate. Suzaku clearly has a choice. Suzaku has always been physically stronger than Lelouch, and Lelouch isn’t stupid enough to think their current ranks hold any real meaning. The duties Suzaku willingly undertook doesn’t include _this_ , whatever it is that makes Suzaku give way to him. Curiously, almost gently, Lelouch presses his fingers deeper into Suzaku, and hears a soft gasp, half stifled, but there is still no resistance. When Lelouch nudges his legs apart, Suzaku doesn’t exactly comply, but doesn’t stop him, either.

It takes a bit of maneuvering (more trouble than Lelouch would willingly brave, had it been for anything else), but minutes later, Lelouch lets out a sigh as he slides home, and hears an answering hitch of breath. Lelouch presses in, more curious and gentle than either of them ever has been, and to his surprise, Suzaku relaxes into the thrusts. Their position doesn’t allow him to thrust hard and fast, the way they usually do it, so Lelouch takes his time, trying not to grumble about having to support his full weight the whole time. And after a few more minutes, Suzaku surprises him with a soft sigh and a lazy roll of the hips, like he feels too tired to really move or thrust back. Slowly, Lelouch lowers himself almost fully on top of Suzaku, still keeping most of his weight on his elbows, but now close enough to suckle at the soft skin of Suzaku’s neck. His tongue marks a slow trail up Suzaku’s spine, drawing light shudders and soft, inarticulate noises from the prone body.

His arms choose that moment to give out, and Suzaku gasps out a surprised noise as breath is driven out of him by the weight of Lelouch collapsing on top of him. Lelouch pants against his ear, and feels Suzaku sigh and shiver, just a little, and again, when Lelouch traces the shell of his ear with tongue. They’re both hot and damp and slightly sticky against each other, with cooling sweat, saliva, and God knows what else on their skin. But Lelouch swears he can feel Suzaku’s heartbeat against his, pulsing with every thrust, and this – God, _this_ is the deepest he’s ever been inside Suzaku, the deepest Suzaku has ever been in _him_. Slowly, carefully, Lelouch rocks against Suzaku, feeling every tremor and hitched breath, every moan that reverberates through Suzaku’s body, until he’s too tired to move. Suzaku’s chuckle is soft and warm, and he finally moves when Lelouch stills, pushing back to lie partly on his side with Lelouch still buried inside him, and draws up one knee towards his chest, and—

Lelouch gasps out a mangled version of Suzaku’s name against Suzaku’s neck, feels an answering moan hang lightly in the air between them, and they are rocking against each other now, slow and sensual. There is no burn, no heat, just warmth, and the calm and steady arousal, so different from their usual, violent spikes of lust and passion, is enough to make Lelouch curl his toes and squirm, clinging even closer to Suzaku’s back. Suzaku’s hand is warm and large, reaching back to cradle Lelouch’s hip, holding them joined together while they move a little faster, and finally, Lelouch comes with a strangled whisper of Suzaku’s name. Barely a minute later, Lelouch’s hand finds Suzaku’s cock, and strokes him, slow and gentle, to completion.

Afterwards, Suzaku makes no move to break out of the hold, his hand still idly caressing Lelouch’s hipbone, and Lelouch dozes, lips still pressed to the sweaty nape of Suzaku’s neck, one arm snaked around his waist to reach between Suzaku’s legs.

Eventually, Suzaku shivers as the sweat dries on their skin, and Lelouch has to pull the sheets back over them, careful not to stray from Suzaku’s caressing hand. Suzaku makes a sound, not quite discomfort, when the motion forces Lelouch to slip out of him, but doesn’t comment on it, letting Lelouch settle spooned behind him with a possessive arm draped around his side, fingers tracing the ridges of his stomach.

Just before Lelouch falls asleep, he thinks he hears Suzaku calls his name, thought it takes him several tries to answer with a tired, questioning hum. Suzaku hesitates briefly (Lelouch knows this because the warm fingers on his hip stop for a brief second), then asks a question.

“Nn?”

“I said, can I fu—“ Suzaku swallows, then tries again. “Can I do it...to you? Like this.”

And suddenly one half of his brain is very much awake, while the other half grumbles a sleepy protest – he’d just fucked Suzaku within an inch of their lives _twice_ and a nap is definitely in order – and he considers falling asleep just to spite Suzaku. What, the question couldn’t have waited until the morning? The way Suzaku’s hand stills on his hip says no, it can’t, and Lelouch sighs. _This_ isn’t what they are about, not really. This doesn’t change the chasm of blood and pain and loss between them, or the final outcome. But – damn it all, neither of them had ever _meant_ to hurt each other.

“Yeah,” Lelouch breathes, because he can’t trust his voice right now, and by the way Suzaku’s breath catches in his throat, he’s glad they’re not facing each other right now. Suzaku lets out a long breath, excruciatingly slow, and then his hand moves away from Lelouch’s hip just as slowly. Before he can protest about the loss, however, Suzaku’s fingers tangle with his own, and Lelouch curls his fingers around Suzaku’s, tightening once, hoping it says everything he knows he can’t say otherwise. Just before he falls asleep, he feels Suzaku’s fingers tighten over his own, and Lelouch knows Suzaku heard everything he will never say.

And he knows their sleep will be peaceful and dreamless tonight.

_\-- November 2008_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Majesty” is more of a companion piece to “Imperial” than a continuation per se. In my mind, the dubious consent is on Suzaku’s part in “Imperial” but not Lelouch’s, because Lelouch is too much of a control freak even on the bottom. Suzaku doesn’t really enjoy it in “Imperial” but does it anyway because reasons. In “Majesty” Lelouch is on top physically, but is very much aware he’s there at Suzaku’s sufferance. In both they share guilt-streak a mile wide spiraling into self-destruction, and the whole thing adds up to one of the most fucked up couple dynamics I’ve written to date. Which explains my attraction. It’s fascinating: you know the whole thing’s a train-wreck bound to happen and the only question is how bad it’s going to be.
> 
> Knowing these two, gloriously bad.


End file.
